Affliction: An Age Gap, Insta-Love Romance

Chapter 19

The third redflag should have been when Stephie waited until Cilla was trapped in the passenger seat of Stephie’s car, before the devious woman pulled out the blindfold.

“You have to put this on,” Stephie commanded, ignoring the horror on Cilla’s face.

Cilla raised her hands to ward of the woman who was once her friend, and shouted, “What the hell, Stephie? Where are you taking me that I have to wear a blindfold? Is this some weird sex thing? Stop grinning like that, it makes you look crazy!”

Stephie giggled, waving the blindfold in Cilla’s face.

“You wear it, or we don’t go, and you know that if you don’t go to this party, I will never forgive you. You don’t want that, Cilla. You don’t want to disappoint your best friend, do you? Not after all we’ve been through together….”

Mouth agape, Cilla stared at her friend, flabbergasted by the woman’s blatant attempt to sucker her into wearing the blindfold.

Cilla chuckled without humor, shaking her head slowly. “You really are something else….” But Stephie was still Cilla’s best friend—her only friend, and despite all the red flags waving in her face, Cilla knew that Stephie would never do anything that would hurt Cilla. Make her uncomfortable as hell? Yes. But she’d never lead Cilla wrong.

Rolling her eyes, Cilla snapped her teeth, then grunted. “Fine. Gimme the freaking blindfold. And I just realized you promised to tell me where we were going if I put the stupid clothes on.”

Stephie grinned, handed Cilla the mask, and watched her put it on. Once the world was dark and Cilla could see nothing, she could feel Stephie reach around her to tighten it.

“There. That should do it—and I know I promised, but this is waaaay more fun,” Stephie remarked, sounding satisfied as all hell. “It won’t take too long to get there, and I promise that once we’re there, everything will work out just fine.”

Cilla swallowed, suddenly feeling like things weren’t going to go as she thought they were.

“Why does it sound like less of a party and more like an intervention?” Cilla asked, hating how the mask felt on her face. She was completely blind, going into a situation that made all her alarms ping, but she had to admit that whatever the hell was going on was better than sitting around her house, pouting, moping, and missing her biker.

At least this would take her mind off of Patriot.

You’d think so….

Ugh, that freaking voice!

“Just trust me, Cilla. This is going to be ah-may-zing!” With that, Stephie started her car and pulled out of Cilla’s driveway, and they were off!

Maybe fifteen minutes later, Cilla could feel the car taking a slow left turn onto a gravel road. Another two or three minutes passed before the car slowed to a stop. Cilla sucked in a fortifying breath, her mind whirling with the possibilities of what could be beyond the blindfold.

“Okay, we’re here,” Stephie said, then paused, almost like she was steeling herself for what came next. But why? “You can take off the blindfold.”

Hesitating for a moment, just long enough to tell herself to grow some balls, Cilla reached up and pulled the blindfold off. She blinked, and stared through the windshield.

“Uh, where are we?” she asked, peering warily at the small ranch house in front of them. She looked out the window beside her to see a line of trees behind a long, wooden fence. The house sat on a grassy lot, with a gravel patch just in front of the porch where Stephie had parked. The house looked well maintained—no peeling paint, no weeds around the porch, the porch itself wasn’t sagging.

Stephie cleared her throat. “This is Horde’s place.”

Cilla jerked her head to look at Stephie. “What! Why are we here?”

It was then that sounds finally carried through the window and the fog in Cilla’s brain. Music. Loud laughter. Voices. This really was a party. At Horde’s house.

Did that mean…?

“Is Patriot here?” Cilla asked, her voice a thick rasp. Did she want the answer to be yes or no?

Stephie gave Cilla a sad yet understanding smile. “No, he’s not here.”

Yeah, but if this was Horde’s house, chances were that other members of the club were there, including the Slutketeers and Jaime.

Cilla narrowed her eyes at Stephie who smirked.

“Just get out of the car. I promise, this isn’t going to be as bad as you’re thinking it is. We’ll have some food, get a little tipsy, and then we’ll watch the show.”

Furrowing her brow at Stephie in confusion, she didn’t have time to ask Stephie what she meant because Horde was coming out the front door, stomping down the steps, and sidling up to Stephie’s car. Stephie opened the door and slid out, slamming it shut behind her.

Cilla checked…the keys weren’t in the ignition, which meant she couldn’t make a getaway, so that meant she had no choice but to either sit in the car like a pathetic loser or get out of the car and maybe have some fun.

Get out of the car and have some fun!

Goddamn that voice! It was suddenly frisky and sassy and shit.

Groaning, Cilla checked her reflection in the mirror on the back of the sun visor. Stephie had done her makeup, and Cilla had to admit that she looked good. It wasn’t too heavy, and the autumn colors worked well with her skin tone and eye color. Her clothes, however, were so snug, she couldn’t put her pinky between her skin and the fabric of her jeans. At least she could breathe…but how would she be eating this food Stephie spoke of?

Rolling her eyes, she got out of the car, balanced on the block heels of the boots Stephie shoved on her feet, and slammed the car door behind her. Huffing, she squared her shoulders, peered over the top of the car to the other side where Horde and Stephie had their heads together conspiratorially.

What were they talking about?

Realizing they were caught, Stephie grinned over her shoulder at Cilla, and then waved her around the car.

“Let’s go around to the back. Most everyone else parked in the field behind the house. There’s a road coming in from the farm on the other side.”

Curious…and suspicious, Cilla asked, “Why’d we come in the from this side?”

Stephie snorted. “My car would bottom out. My little Honda isn’t made for off-roading. It barely gets up the gravel driveway as it is.”

Horde chuckled, throwing his arm around Stephie’s shoulders to pull her in close and plant a kiss on her temple.

“I’ve got the blacktop people coming next week to pave it all, baby. Don’t want you to lose your transmission coming home to me.”

Stephie grinned up at Horde, love shining in her eyes.

Suddenly overcome with envy, Cilla swallowed the urge to cry. She wanted that for her very own, and she could have had that with Patriot.

You did have that with Patriot….

Shaking her head, she ignored that thought, but only because she didn’t know what to think about everything that had happened over the last six-plus months, since the night she’d met Patriot at the Unchained party. Long months of watching him, wanting him, getting to know him—and then two short weeks of being his…and him being hers. None of it had felt fake; when they’d been together, she’d actually felt adored, cherished, desired.

How could any of that been fake?

There has to be more to it….

Then again, she was a na?ve idiot, that would explain everything.

She was happy for Stephie, who deserved a man like Horde, a man who loved her and showed it.

Patriot did that, too….

Yeah, but where was he? After the phone call with him, there’d been nothing but silence, and in that silence was her answer. He was all talk. And she had to remember that. She had to get over him.

“Come on in, Cilla,” Horde called, and Cilla followed after him toward the side of the house. Behind her, Stephie stopped, turned, then retrieved something from the backseat of her car before she hurried to catch up. Cilla watched as Stephie slid something on over her daffodil-colored camisole. It took her a moment to realize what Stephie was wearing.

“Is that a property kutte?” she asked, astonished.

Stephie blushed, tucking her chin, and then nodding once. “Yeah. Horde gave it to me last night. I wanted to wear it to the party today…to show that it’s official. We’ve been together for almost a year, but now…I’m his ol’ lady.”

Overwhelmed with happiness for her friend, Cilla squealed, then threw her arms around Stephie, hugging her.

“That’s amazing, Stephie!” Turning to Horde who’d stopped to witness the scene, Cilla saw a smug smirk on his face…but there was an affection and adoration in his eyes as he looked at his woman.

What I wouldn’t give to have that….

She pointed at Horde. “You, mister, have one hell of an incredible woman. You treat her like a queen, you hear me?”

Horde’s smile dropped as a seriousness slid over his face.

“She is my queen,” he confessed, his tone braced with steel.

Her smile watery, she nodded. “Okay, then.”

Stephie, Horde, and Cilla headed toward the back yard, with Cilla dragging her feet. What would she see once they reached the actual party?

No time to wonder.

Rounding the back of the house, Cilla saw a massive, smoking grill, several picnic tables set around a grass and gravel clearing, a fire barrel already lit and spewing flames into the air, three coolers, overflowing with ice and beer, a long table set up with bowls and casserole dishes, five large speakers spread out around the area that were pumping out “Dr. Feelgood” by Motley Crüe, clusters of men and women milling around, drinking, laughing, talking loudly, and several pairs of eyes, all staring at her.

“Grab a beer, the meat’ll be done shortly,” Horde announced before turning and heading toward the grill, where Tornado was standing. Across the clearing, Sasha was throwing daggers at Tornado’s back, and Cilla wondered what happened there.

Mentally shrugging, she pushed down her anxiety and did what Horde suggested. She headed toward the nearest cooler, grabbed a beer, uncapped it, then took two long slugs of it before finally turning to see who all was there.

Seated at the picnic tables furthest from the food were Sasha, Tasha, Marci, Jaime, and Kiki, one of the official clubwhores who slept with whichever brother wanted her for the night. Or the hour. Currently, she was sitting in Disco’s lap, sucking on his neck. At the table next to them were Cluster, and Tony, who was one of the prospects. Beside him was a man Cilla remembered as Locust, then there was the club prez, Frost, a woman Cilla assumed was Frost’s wife, Emily, and beside her was another woman Cilla had never seen before. By the way the woman was staring adoringly at Locust, and the way Locust was throwing heated glances at the woman, Cilla could assume that they were there together. And the woman was a surprise—she was curvy, like Cilla, but taller, and she wasn’t made up like the club women usually were. She was dressed like a kindergarten teacher with a long, flowy skirt, a peasant blouse, and her hair was long and loose down her back. Cilla didn’t know Locust well, but she had seen him with several of the hang rounds at parties…they were nothing like the woman he apparently brought with him.

Stephie introduced the people at the table, though Cilla knew most of them on sight, and Cilla was correct, the woman, Nadia, was there with Locust and, apparently, they were…dating. Hmm. Interesting, but not interesting enough to keep Cilla from feeling a heavy gaze on her.

Standing beside another table was two other prospects, Tony Dos—because there were two Tony’s and this way there wouldn’t be any confusion when the brothers called for them—and Jimmy. Sitting at the table was another man Cilla had never met, but he was certainly memorable. He had a massive build, with nearly black hair that was long enough to cover his ears and curled at the bottom, his neck and arms were covered in tattoos, and he was wearing a black bandana with a white skull on it around his neck. He seemed the epitome of “dark, dangerous, and fuck around and find out.” His eyes were dark, intense, and they were pinned to her.

Who was that man and why was he looking at her like he wanted to peel away her skin to see her insides…and then paste the skin back on just to see if it would work?

Shuddering, Cilla followed Stephie to the table nearest the food and furthest from the glaring, clucking, blabbering sluts. She sat down, placed the half empty beer bottle on the table, then tried to breathe through the tension in her chest.

“Why did I agree to come to this? And what is the party for, anyway? This is a clearly a club party.” Her gaze flicked to Frost, then Cluster. “So why are you having it here instead of at the clubhouse?”

Stephie took a swig of her own beer before answering, “It’s just what Horde wanted.” She shrugged. “Also, there’s more space here for what he has planned.”

Stiffening at the weird promise in Stephie’s voice, Cilla only tensed further when she saw Jaime and her bitches approaching. They were in skimpier than normal clothes—if you could believe that—and they were all wearing matching sneers.

“I really shouldn’t be surprised that fat as fuck Cilla the Pig is sitting right next to the food. I don’t see why you don’t just sit at the end of the buffet table and lift it to your mouth. You can clear the whole thing in a matter of minutes,” Jaime teased cruelly, and her friends laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

“Shut the fuck up, Jaime. Everyone knows the only reason you’re here is because Sasha invited you. None of the brothers even want you here.”

Cilla arched a brow at her friend. Since when was Jaime persona non grata at club parties? As Patriot’s ol’ lady, she was basically club royalty. Stephie caught her gaze and gave Cilla a single, subtle shake of her head.

What in the world was happening?

“Food’s ready!” Horde bellowed, which made the men at the other table lurch to their feet, and hurry to grab their plates and fill them with what looked like ribs and chicken legs.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, bitch,” Sasha spat, crossing her arms over her barely there top, which only forced her tits up higher. A stiff breeze would render her top useless. “Jaime belongs here, and once Patriot gets here, you’ll see for yourself, when he gives Jaime his property kutte.” Smug as hell, Sasha smirked at Cilla, who’d gone from overheated with humiliation to cold as ice with horror.

Patriot was coming.

And he was going to present Jaime with his property kutte.

Tonight.

With Cilla sitting right there to witness it all.